I think that as it often is with any specialty professional, my therapist has a viewpoint that is somewhat narrow in scope, and in his case which also happens to be less spiritually and intellectually holistic than is my own. He applies a lot of his own biases to how he sees me, which have nothing to do with me but everything to do with the nature of compassion fatigue and reduced critical thinking. Seeing his interpretations happen, it's like watching a movie being made of my life by tired scriptwriters reusing whatever tired plot devices are handiest at the time, and which bears little to no resemblance to my actual life. I suppose it offers me some bettered contrast, in providing me an alternately lensed view of what portion of my reality is not comprehensible to others, or just will not be received.. the outline of the body of my aloneness, that which is mine alone to bear.